


lonely with me

by RomanoJet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Pirates, Rivals to Lovers, Shipwrecks, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), high seas au, injuries, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoJet/pseuds/RomanoJet
Summary: Sylvain Gautier and Felix Fraldarius are both captains of their own pirate ships. Their intense rivalry is almost something of legend. So what happens when they're shipwrecked on a deserted island and forced to work together to survive?For Sylvix Week 2020 Day 3: Injuries/Healing | High Seas AU
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	lonely with me

**Author's Note:**

> It's sylvix week!!! I'm so excited to participate in this event again. Also, wow! This is my first multichaptered fic! I'll probably be working on it after posting the rest of my sylvix week fics. Hopefully that works out. 
> 
> Sylvix Week Day 3: Injuries/Healing | High Seas AU

“Captain!”  
  
Sylvain looked up from his map to see Ingrid at the door of his personal quarters. “What is it?” he asked his first mate. She seemed agitated, which had him on high alert.  
  
“Fraldarius’ ship has been spotted in the distance off the port side, Sylvain. We think they’re after the same high-profile bounty as us. This could get ugly.” She crossed the room to stand at his side, gazing down at the map with a worried expression. The port they were headed for was clearly marked.   
  
Sylvain frowned. While he was always glad to have another go at his rival, this was a terrible time to run into him. His crew _needed_ this bounty. They’d been pulling in precious little gold lately, and their ship and supplies wouldn’t pay for itself.   
  
“We’ll have to engage,” he decided, wincing as he saw Ingrid’s expression, intention of lecturing him clear on her face. “I know what you’re thinking, Ingy. But I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for the good of all of us. We need to win this one.”   
  
She sighed. “You just...you get weird around him. Like you’re not taking it seriously. They’ve stolen a lot of bounties from us, Sylvain.”  
  
Sylvain gave her a tiny smile. “I know. But not this time. Go tell the crew to get ready for an attack. And tell them to avoid Fraldarius. I have to be the one to fight him.”   
  
He knew by the look Ingrid sent him that she thought it was because of the _other_ reason. But honestly, he was thinking more of the safety of his crew. Fraldarius was damn good with a sword, and he didn’t want any of his people to fall by the enemy captain’s hand.   
  
With that, Ingrid was gone, shouting out orders to the rest of the crew. Sylvain could already hear the hustle and bustle around the ship that signalled they were getting ready.   
  
Sighing, he rolled up the map and stored it in one of the long pockets of his coat. He turned and opened a chest sitting on a drawer behind him, taking out his twin pistols, making sure they were ready to use in battle. His assortment of knives and daggers were hidden away in his clothing in case he was in a pinch.   
  
Finished, he opened his door and emerged onto the deck of the ship. The wind was strong today, enough for him to consider leaving his hat behind.   
  
Dorothea was securing the rigging when he jogged up to her. She stood and gave him a grim look as he stopped. “Sylvie, I don’t know if our ship can take another attack,” she told him honestly. “There’s word on the wind that Fraldarius’ ship has been equipped with more cannons. Ours are still barely in commission.”  
  
“I know,” he said, his frown deepening. It was a hopeless situation. Either they fought Fraldarius, or they lost the bounty to his crew.   
  
“Just...keep us in mind, alright?” she asked, giving him a worried look. “If we lose the bounty, we’ll still survive. But if any of us die in this fight, there’s no coming back from that.”  
  
“None of you will die,” Sylvain promised, his voice rough. “I swear it.”  
  
Grimacing, she nodded, getting back to her task. Sylvain continued on, checking on the rest of his crew. Leonie was priming the cannons, making sure they’d be ready for immediate fire once the Fraldarius ship came into sight. Mercedes was preparing her special bundles of bits and bobs she used to nurse them back to health whenever a crew member fell ill or became injured. Everyone else was similarly busy. Sylvain couldn’t be prouder of his crew. They were small, but they wouldn’t give in without a fight.   
  
He joined Ingrid at the wheel, sharing a look with her. He could see that she was still worried. “None of you will die,” he repeated, softer. “I swear on my life.”   
  
Instead of looking relieved, Ingrid’s frown deepened. “You’re not going to die either. We won’t let that happen.”   
  
Sylvain shook his head, waving a hand nonchalantly. “If me dying is the price to pay for keeping the rest of you alive, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”   
  
Ingrid shoved his shoulder, distressed. “That’s not funny, Sylvain! Get it through your thick skull that we actually like you! You’re a good captain, and you’re…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re my _friend._ Don’t you _dare_ throw your life away. I’m not going through that again.”   
  
Slightly mollified, Sylvain stared at his childhood friend for a moment. He felt the beginnings of shame lodge in his throat. “...Yeah. Yeah, okay. I won’t die.”   
  
She punched his chest lightly. With Ingrid’s strength, though, it still hurt. “Good. Now get ready to engage. We only have a minute left until we’re all in firing range.”   
  
Sylvain grinned, tilting his large hat and giving an exaggerated salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”   
  
Ingrid shook her head, a smile beginning to play around her lips. And really, that was all Sylvain could ask for.   
  
He strode to the very tip of the bow, turning back to look at all the members of his crew once again. His family. They would win because they had to. Simple as that.   
  
“Target spotted!”   
  
Leonie’s powerful voice cut above the crashing of the waves and whistling of the gale. A few seconds later, an ear-splitting **BOOM** shook the entire ship as one of the cannons fired. By the raucous cheering that followed, Sylvain guessed that it hit the other ship.   
  
He scrambled down, ready for combat as the other ship, flag bearing the crest of Fraldarius flapping furiously in the wind, lurched out of the gloom. Sure enough, he could count more cannons just on this side that they had on their entire ship. His eyes widened as he saw a small figure standing at them, obviously getting ready to fire. Sylvain was running before he even registered telling his body to move.   
  
“Get down!” he roared, crashing into Leonie just as the first cannonball hit their ship, sending up chunks of wood in a spray of splinters.   
  
Leonie scowled, unfazed by the fall. “Thanks. Now we need to hit them back.”   
  
Sylvain nodded. “You get that cannon, I’ll get this one.”  
  
Together they raced towards the next two, aiming them at the same place. If they could create a big enough hole, they might just come through this in one piece.   
  
_“Fire!”_ Leonie shouted, and Sylvain’s ears rang as the twin explosions sent deadly metal flying towards the ship. It didn’t strike as true as they wanted it to, however, and the other vessel did not begin to sink.  
  
On the opposite side, however… “Leonie, we need to get out of here, _now!_ ” he shouted. At the other ship’s cannons, the tiny figure was aided by a large man now, and they were both aiming the powerful weapons squarely at Sylvain and Leonie. And their cannons.   
  
“Fuck,” Leonie breathed, and then they were running, only just making it to the other side of the ship before the cannonballs hit.   
  
Their own cannons lurched into the sea, the crumbling wood beneath them disappearing as the enemy fire struck true. Sylvain’s stomach tied itself into knots in dread. “Ingrid!” he shouted. “We need to get closer!”   
  
“Right!” she shouted back, spinning the wheel furiously. If they were close enough to the other ship, they couldn’t use their cannons, since they would risk hitting themselves in the process.   
  
With a groan, the ship veered to the side, lurching closer to the other one. The Fraldarius crew was no longer at the cannons, Sylvain noted with a hint of relief, but it seemed they were getting equipment ready. He realised what it was when their ships came close enough to see the fury in Fraldarius’ eyes as he shouted the order.   
  
“Board!”  
  
His crew tossed over ropes and spikes, moving like a well-oiled machine as they prepared to board Sylvain’s ship where it wasn’t damaged. The final touch was several planks slapped down, and then they had free passage.   
“Crew!” Sylvain bellowed, drawing his pistols. “Prepare for combat!”   
  
His crew all pulled out their various weapons as Fraldarius’ people swarmed over the makeshift bridge and onto their ship. The wind was shrieking as it stirred up the sea, hair and clothes whipping around their bodies. Everyone paired up against their target as the clash began.   
  
Sylvain was looking for someone in particular, though. He shoved aside a freckled boy with grey hair for Dorothea to deal with, briefly catching sight of Leonie and Ingrid taking on Fraldarius’ fearsome first mate, a beast of a man with shaggy blond hair and a ragged eyepatch, and the extremely tall, broad, silver-haired man that Sylvain had seen at the cannons earlier.   
  
But then, everything faded into the background as his eyes locked onto his real target’s. Fraldarius was staring at him, his sword drawn, his face twisted in a scowl. As always, for a split second, Sylvain found himself captivated by those eyes. The deep amber pools pulled him in like quicksand, even as they narrowed with hate. At this rate, he was liable to drown in them.   
  
And then, the moment ceased. “Gautier,” Fraldarius spat, nimbly twisting to the side as Sylvain fired his pistol directly at his head. Of course, Sylvain knew he would dodge. They had played this game many times before.   
  
“Felix!” he responded, his tone jovial, dancing backwards a few steps as Felix twisted and shoved his sword at his gut. “Good to see you again, buddy. How’ve you been?”  
  
As expected, Felix’s expression only grew angrier. “We are not _buddies._ ” He was twisting and jabbing his blade at a speed Sylvain could hardly keep up with. Good thing he was so used to fighting against his rival captain, or he’d be skewered in an instant. He twirled his pistols around his fingers, firing them at the same time, aimed at different places.   
  
Felix dodged like it was nothing, the bullets whistling by him harmlessly. “You’ve gotten worse,” he snapped. He swung his blade at Sylvain’s neck, who only just managed to stagger back from it as the wind pushed him to the side with a particularly strong gust. There went his hat, flying away into the increasingly choppier sea.   
  
“I’m afraid it’s just bad weather, my friend,” Sylvain said breezily, as if he hadn’t almost gotten decapitated just now. Felix got sloppier when he was riled up, which happened to be Sylvain’s specialty.   
  
Felix’s gaze seemed to fix on his hair for a moment before dropping back down to meet his eyes. “Bullshit. You just suck.”   
  
“Maybe so,” he replied cheekily. “But I don’t see myself impaled on your sword just yet. Unless we’re talking about your _other_ sword..?” He winked and licked his lips, spreading his arms in a clear invitation, guns hanging from his fingers.   
  
Predictably, Felix’s face reddened up to the hairline in a massive blush. “Shut the fuck up, Gautier!” he hissed, drawing a second sword from his belt.  
  
Sylvain raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Wow, where were you hiding that?” He yelped as Felix suddenly stabbed both blades at once at him, only avoiding getting skewered by a lucky gust of wind knocking aside the blades. The storm was getting worse, but it was also sort of keeping him alive.   
  
Unfortunately, his guns were pretty useless in this weather. He fired one last time, but Felix lunged forward, causing him to miss, and snap-kicked it from his hand. Cursing at the new pain in his fingers, Sylvain attempted to point the other one at him. Felix grabbed his hand before he could, trying to wrestle it away from him.   
  
“Hey, gorgeous,” Sylvain murmured, leaning in close as Felix grappled for the gun. “You wanna ditch this fight and—”  
  
His sentence was abruptly cut off by the loud sound of his gun going off, right in their ears. His eyes went wide with panic as he realised that Felix must have accidentally pulled the trigger when trying to wrench it from his hands. Was he hit? Was he okay?  
  
When the cloud of gunpowder cleared, he saw Felix’s face, white as a sheet. There was no blood, but there was a deep, grey mark on his neck, ugly and prevalent as Felix’s nimble fingers found it and pressed down. A gunpowder burn. The bullet must have just barely missed him. If it had hit, it would have surely meant his death.   
  
“Fuck,” Sylvain coughed, stumbling a few paces back as the reality of how close that outcome was sunk in. “Shit, I didn’t mean to do that.”   
  
If possible, Felix looked even more furious. “We’re trying to kill each other,” he snarled. “Of course you meant to.”   
  
He left no more room for words as he came at Sylvain harder than before, his two swords whirling in a silver streak of death. It was all Sylvain could do to jerk himself out of the way, dropping his pistols to the deck and yanking his daggers out of his clothing. He could barely fight back; knives were only useful if he could get close. It didn’t help that he could barely find his footing, the ship rocking back and forth in the screaming wind and roiling waves.   
  
Suddenly, the sky grew darker than before and a great torrent of rain dumped itself onto them from the heavens. It was only his experience as a captain that allowed Sylvain to stay alive now, navigating the wet deck as Felix relentlessly swung and jabbed his swords at him. There was no sign of him stopping, even with the storm.   
  
“-vain!”  
  
Fuck. Was that Ingrid?  
  
_“Sylvain!”_  
  
It was. “Ingrid?” he shouted, nearly slipping as he once again avoided death by a fraction of an inch. He couldn’t turn to look; if he took his eyes off Felix for even a millisecond, he was mincemeat.   
  
“Our ship is sinking!” she screamed, her voice rising above the thunderous staccato of rain on the deck. “We need to cross!”   
  
“Felix!” Now the first mate of the other ship’s voice had joined Ingrid’s. “You have to come back too! This is not worth dying for!”   
  
Suddenly, the sky flashed white as lightning streaked down, thankfully avoiding their ships. Sylvain saw Felix’s eyes light up with the sky, the rage in them palpable. The thunderclap that followed nearly rattled Sylvain’s teeth out of his head, and still, Felix swung at him. He was clearly tiring, staggering around with the wind and the way the ship was slowly but surely listing to the side, but he wasn’t giving up.   
  
“Felix,” Sylvain pleaded, his daggers long ripped from his hands by the wind. “We need to get to safety!”  
  
“I’m trying, you idiot!” he shouted back. Sylvain realised then that Felix wasn’t swinging at him; he was trying to use his swords as leverage to make it back to his ship. He didn’t want to die here any more than Sylvain.   
  
He scrambled over, grasping Felix’s hand. The other man’s eyes flashed with indignance, but he let Sylvain pull him over to the plank, which was all but deteriorated.   
  
Both of their crews were on the Fraldarius ship, which was being thrashed around by the storm, but it was far sturdier. It also didn’t have a hole in it. They were all shouting at them, fruitlessly throwing more anchorings to try and provide them safe passage.   
  
Sylvain tugged Felix over, but just as they were about to try and cross, the ship gave a massive groan and the deck splintered under their feet. Lightning illuminated the scene in stark clarity, and the thunderclap afterwards was deafening.   
  
“Felix?” Sylvain shouted, just managing to grip onto a part of the deck that was still attached. Below his feet, the cold unforgiving ocean was crashing through the ship, greedily tearing it apart piece by piece. _“Felix!”_  
  
“I’m here!”   
  
Only one person could sound so angry while assuring he wasn’t dead. Sylvain whipped his head around, damp, matted bangs stuck to his face. But he still saw Felix, clutching onto a soaked plank that looked about five seconds from crumbling away.   
  
Sylvain reached out to him, as if he could save them both by grabbing his hand. Felix was reaching back, Sylvain was going to grab hold, and—  
  
A falling beam cracked him over the head, and everything went black.   
  
\---  
  
Blurry yellows and blues filled his vision as he cracked his eyes open, every part of him aching. A few seconds passed. Finally, he processed what had happened. The fight, the storm, the ship breaking. And he was alive. _Alive._  
  
His vision eventually began to clear, and he saw the sky, bright and hot and blue, present above him as always. He was laying in sand, he could tell that much now. Turning his head sent a wave of pain down his body, but he could see the sand now. The ocean was lapping onto the shore a few feet away, calm as a well-fed cat. Okay. So he had washed up somewhere. The Goddess must have had some hand in this, because there was no way he would have survived otherwise.   
  
He attempted to sit up, and cried out as red-hot pain flashed, clear and cruel, all throughout his chest. So he definitely wasn’t unscathed.   
  
“You’re awake.”   
  
At the voice, Sylvain’s eyes widened, and he turned his head in the other direction, wincing at the pain. “F-Felix?” he croaked, his mouth feeling clogged with sand and whatever else he had probably swallowed in his unconscious journey through the ocean.   
  
Sure enough, Felix Fraldarius was standing there, crouching down to look at him. He looked exhausted, and his hair and clothes were tattered and torn. But he was also alive.   
  
“Yes, you idiot. Can’t you see properly?” There was little bite to Felix’s voice, and it was clear he was just keeping up appearances. “We washed up on this island. It’s beach all around, and a jungle in the middle. There’s nothing - and no one - else here.”   
  
Sylvain tried not to let the surprise show on his face. “You’ve scouted..?”  
  
“Yes.” Felix frowned down at him. “Not all of us were napping for twenty four hours straight.”   
  
Sylvain wanted to protest, to say he was _passed out_ , not napping! But Felix was already losing interest, standing up and casting a wary glance all around.   
  
“Get up,” he said. “We need to make shelter.”  
  
Sylvain chuckled, though it came out more like a wheeze. “Can’t, sweetheart. I think my ribs are cracked.” As if to prove his point, the small laugh he had attempted was sending fire through his veins, his ribs showing him the exact extent of their displeasure at his actions.   
  
Felix actually looked concerned, which might have been a first. The look was gone as soon as it came, however. “Of fucking course they are,” he muttered, crouching down again. Without any other preamble, he began undoing the clasps of Sylvain’s coat and tearing it off him.   
  
“Hey, hey!” Sylvain protested, a pained grin playing around his features. “Usually you’d take me to dinner first before stripping me down.”   
  
Felix’s ears glowed red. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. He finally got Sylvain’s shirt unbuttoned as well, splayed wide to display his chest. “Does this hurt?” He pressed down in the middle, and it was all Sylvain could do not to scream.   
  
“‘s fine,” he managed, giving Felix a little wink. “Nothing at all.”   
  
Felix glared at him. “Fucking idiot. You’re obviously lying.”   
  
Sylvain attempted to shrug. “Maybe. Um, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die here. You don’t have to stick around to see it.”   
  
Felix looked furious and disgusted with him all at once. “What kind of heartless bastard do you think I am? I’m not going to leave you laying here to die.” He looked over somewhere in the distance that Sylvain couldn’t see. “I salvaged some supplies from what’s left of your ship. I’m pretty sure there were bandages and a medicine chest in the pile.”   
  
Sylvain’s head spun as he tried to process this all at once. “Wait, my ship? It’s here?”   
  
“Yes.” Felix glared at him. “It’s nearby. It’s completely wrecked, though, so don’t get your hopes up.”   
  
Sylvain smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, okay. So...Mercie’s stuff was still on there?”   
  
“I don’t know who that is,” Felix grumbled. “I already told you what I found. Do you want it or not?”   
  
Sylvain turned his head slightly and regarded Felix with surprise. “You’re going to help me? I thought we hated each other.”   
  
“Don’t get me wrong,” Felix said, his ears colouring again. _Ah,_ Sylvain thought dazedly. “I do hate you. But there’s no use dying like this. I’d rather it be in combat after besting you with my sword.”   
  
Sylvain gave him a little, hopeful smile. “Okay, Felix.”   
  
Felix’s eyes widened a fraction and he quickly looked away, scowling. The air felt weird and charged for a moment before the other captain stood up straight suddenly, turning on his heel. “I’ll get the stuff.” He stomped away in the sand, gait unsteady.   
  
Sylvain grinned to himself, turning his head back up to the sky. His hair and clothes were full of sand, his ribs were broken and breathing was painful, his ship was trashed, his crew was who-knows-where, and he felt like he hadn’t had food or water for a week...but he was alive. And Felix was here on this deserted island with him. So...maybe things weren’t _all_ bad.   
  
It was a few minutes before Felix came trekking back over. He was holding a bundle in his hands, one that Sylvain definitely recognised as being from Mercedes’ medicine chest. Even when she wasn’t here, Mercie was saving him. Goddess bless her.   
  
Felix kneeled down on the sand beside him. Suddenly, he made a strangled sound. “Are you _bleeding?_ ”   
  
Confusedly, Sylvain peered down at his chest. “Uh, no?”  
  
“Not there. Your head. Your hair’s all matted with blood.” Felix’s voice sounded the slightest bit shaky, and Sylvain realised he was actually concerned.   
  
“I… I didn’t know. I knew my head hurt, but I thought that was because of the crash.” Suddenly, the memory came to him. “Wait. The ship, when it was breaking, a beam hit me on the head.”   
  
“Fuck,” Felix breathed. He almost sounded scared. “Are you...I mean, you’re fine, right? You’re not going to…”  
  
Sylvain chuckled. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m not gonna need an amputation or anything. As long as you get those herbs in me, I might just live.”   
  
Felix looked down at the mess of greens, panic in his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.”  
  
Sylvain took a deep breath. Ouch. Not a good idea, with the ribs. But he has to hold on for Felix’s sake. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve picked some stuff up from Mercie, the doctor in my crew. I’ll tell you what to do.”   
  
Felix met his eyes, and Sylvain saw, behind the apprehension, a semblance of trust. They may have been rivals on the seas, but right now, they were two men shipwrecked on a deserted island together. And neither of them wanted to die.   
  
“Okay. You’ve got the mortar and pestle, right? That’s the bowl thing with the...crusher thing.” When Felix nodded, Sylvain continued. “I don’t know which herbs help specifically, but I think if you just crush them all together it should do something for me. Put a bit of everything into the mortar, and crush them into a sort of paste with the pestle.”   
  
Felix began doing so, grinding the herbs down with a force that looked a little more intense than needed. But it got the job done, so Sylvain wouldn’t complain. “Good. Usually we’d have a cloth with hot water to relieve pain, but I don’t think we’d be able to do that here without a fire. I’ll just have to take it the hard way.”   
  
Felix frowned, a little crease appearing between his eyebrows. “...Okay.”  
  
Sylvain smiled encouragingly. “It’s alright. So, you need a bit of water in there. Oil would be better, but we probably don’t have any.” Felix shaking his head confirmed this. “There should be lard in the bundle. Grind that into the rest with the water, and it’ll become an ointment. You’ll need to spread the ointment over my ribs, and then bandage it up tightly with the cloth in there. Can you do that?”  
  
Felix breathed out, his features still troubled. “Yes.” He stood, probably to go get water from the ocean lapping at the shore nearby.   
  
Sylvain turned his gaze back to the sky. He wished he could sit up. He was getting anxious stuck here laying on the ground.   
  
Felix was soon at his side again, putting the rest of the things into the mortar and grinding it up again. “It’s done,” he said, shortly after.   
  
“You know what to do,” Sylvain said, giving him a small grin.   
  
He held his breath as Felix leaned over him and began smearing the ointment on his skin. His hair hung down, nearly brushing Sylvain’s skin, and Sylvain could barely stop himself from reaching up and taking hold. Suddenly, he caught sight of the deep grey mark on his neck, looking irritated, and a wave of guilt washed through him. By all accounts, they were trying to hurt each other, so he wasn’t sure why he felt so bad.   
  
Felix’s face was determined as he pointedly ignored looking straight at the other man while covering the bruised sections of his chest with the substance. Finally, Sylvain’s whole chest was a mess of green. Call it the power of suggestion, but Sylvain almost felt a little better already. He decided to apologise about the gunshot later, and to make up for it, but for now...he needed to be able to move first.   
  
“Okay, now the bandages,” he instructed. Felix unwound the cloth from the tight wrap it was in and grimaced as he traced out how it was going to work with his eyes.  
  
“You’re going to need to sit up.”   
  
Oh. Sylvain felt stupid for a second. How had he expected to do this without getting up? “I’ll try,” he said, hiding his pain behind a honeyed smile.   
  
What followed were probably the most physically excruciating moments of Sylvain’s life. Felix’s hand was on his back, slowly guiding him up, but it didn’t stop his ribs from exploding with pain. Goddess, he was going to pass out. He was sweating, biting his lip hard to prevent outright screaming. After what seemed like an eternity, he was sitting upwards, covered in a sheen of sweat and taking short, quick breaths. Anything deeper ached even more.   
  
“It’s going to be okay,” Felix said quietly, repeating Sylvain’s words from before. Sylvain gave him a small, anxious smile. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then, Felix flushed the smallest bit and looked away. “Hold this part here,” he dictated after a few seconds, and Sylvain raised his arm (with a lot of effort) and held down the end of the strip of cloth. Felix wound it all around his chest, under his arms, and back around again. He made sure to pull it snug, and soon enough, Sylvain’s ribs were completely wrapped up, the ointment spread underneath.   
  
Sylvain breathed out a sigh of relief (ow). “Thanks, Felix,” he said, giving him a more genuine smile this time. “You really helped me out.”  
  
“Sure, whatever,” Felix grumbled, looking back over at the ship. Sylvain could see it now, a mass of wood and debris smashed onto the shore. “Like I said, we should make shelter. We need to find food and water, too. We can’t stay under this heat for long.”  
  
Sylvain nodded, only just realising how hot it was with the sun beating down on him. “I’ll be good to go soon enough, so I can help.”  
  
Felix looked at him skeptically. “If you say so. We don’t know how long we’ll be here until we get rescued, so it has to be sturdy.”  
  
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “...You think we’re getting rescued?”  
  
Felix narrowed his eyes. “If my crew is alive, they’ll find me,” he snapped. “And if yours is worth anything, they’ll find you too. Now shut up and focus on not hurting.”   
  
Sylvain raised his hands in surrender (ow). “Okay, okay. Just...give me a bit.”   
  
Felix eyed him for a second. “Put your coat over your head,” he said. “You shouldn’t sit under direct sunlight for too long. When you can move, head over there.” He pointed to where the sand petered out, a small rocky expanse leading to what looked like a jungle. It was no kind of forest Sylvain had ever seen, anyway. “The trees are good cover. I’ll be looking for a source of clean water and food in the meantime.”   
  
Sylvain gave him a small, silly salute (ow). “Sir, yes, sir!”  
  
Felix rolled his eyes and stood up, heading towards the jungle. Sylvain watched him go, finally allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. They were stranded here, shipwrecked on a tiny island with no one else around. They had whatever they could salvage from his ship as well as whatever the island could provide them naturally. And...that was it. Well, they had each other, too, but Sylvain didn’t know if that was much of a comfort to Felix.  
  
He took his coat from where it was sitting on the sand and shook it out to get the mess off. Every movement inspired pain to wrack his body, but he’d endured pain before. He could make it through this. So, he draped the coat over his head and settled in, thinking healing thoughts, or whatever. Mostly, he just thought about it crew. _Please let them be alive,_ he begged the Goddess or whoever else was listening. _Even if I don’t make it, let them live._  



End file.
